


Poor, Unfortunate Soul

by kaybeegtg



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cheesy, Cliche, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, I'm Sorry, My First Fanfic, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3466028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaybeegtg/pseuds/kaybeegtg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt by /u/staleina at <a href="http://www.reddit.com/r/Solasmancers">/r/Solasmancers</a></p><p>  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VyFVG4VfPmg"> Poor Unfortunate Souls - Disney </a></p><p>Inquisitor is head over heels for someone and will do anything to have their love, even if it were just for a little while (Just a taste...). Meanwhile that love interest has absolutely no interest in them at all. </p><p>They are approached by a really powerful demon during a moment of weakness to turn them into the perfect image of their interests desires for a steep price.</p><p>What is that price?<br/>What does your Inquisitor become? <br/>What does the demon do with their temporary prize? <br/>What happens after the three days are done? </p><p>Like in the little mermaid..the Inquisitor has three days to have their target fall in love with them. If they can even call it that... <br/>Happy Ending Not Required :P</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Staleina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Staleina/gifts).



> Sticking to the fairy tale spirit of the prompt! CHEEZBALLZ all over the place! Thanks for the prompt, Staleina I loved it! :)

Lavellan opened her eyes to a sea of sleeping soldiers surrounding her on perfectly identical bedrolls under the canvas canopy of an unfamiliar tent. She sat bolt upright, blinking away the sleep that clouded her vision, and drew her eyebrows together in confusion. What was she doing here, sleeping in the soldiers’ camp? Why wasn’t she in her own cabin? 

She pressed her palms to her eyes, struggling to replay the events from the night before. Therinfal Redoubt. Negotiating with the templars. Yes, that much she could remember. She recalled finally finding the Lord Seeker, and then… 

The memory was a wisp of smoke, dissipating as she reached to grasp it.

Disturbed, Lavellan left the tent to find Cullen overseeing the early-risers’ morning exercises. Her cheeks bloomed in guilty pleasure, drinking in the sight of his handsome face and imposing figure -- a sight that had intoxicated her since their first meeting.

“Good morning, Cullen.” She flushed, hoping he might help fill the gaps in her memory.

He barely gave her notice, eyes narrowing at the sound of his name. “You will not address me so informally, recruit,” he snapped. “You will call me Commander.” Turning away without a second glance, he growled, “Now, go fetch a shield from the armory and get started.” 

Lavellan shivered from both the chill in the air and in Cullen’s voice. Figuring he was too distracted to recognize her, she turned, humiliated, to the gates of Haven while summoning a spell to warm the frost from her skin. 

Nothing happened.

Panic struck as she tried again, dipping into an empty mana pool. Where she had always sensed magic at the tips of her fingers and the edges of her mind, now lay a hollow space; an echoing void pressing into her senses. How hadn’t she noticed sooner? The emptiness made the world heavier, her mind slower. 

She looked down to the mark on her hand. It, too, was gone.

Alarm bells clamored in her ears as she broke into a run for her cabin. By the Dread Wolf, what was going on?!

Lavellan threw the door shut behind her, frantically reaching for the ornate hand mirror Leliana had suggested she use to tame her hair. Though Lavellan had seen little use for it before, she was thankful for it now. 

Taking a deep breath, she brought the mirror slowly up to reflect her face. 

She recognized each of her features individually; her hair and eyes were their usual color, her nose its usual shape, but overall--it was like squinting through frosted glass. She could somehow barely recognize herself. Each individual trait refused to come together to form a recognizable whole.

The door to the hut opened, interrupting her internal accusations of blood magic, and she witnessed _herself_ walk through. 

No, not quite herself. There was something off in the eyes. 

The real Lavellan jumped back in a vain attempt to summon her absent magic. The demon’s eyes flashed green and a voice that sounded eerily like her own, laughed.

“Tell me what you think, Herald.”

Suddenly, the missing memories flooded back in a rush of pain that threatened to split her skull. She cried in agony as she replayed the deal she struck with Envy. 

_I will turn you into your heart’s desire for three days._

“Ah, you’re remembering,” came the strange voice eagerly. “Tell me what you feel.”

Lavellan fell to the floor with a cry, fingers digging into the hair above her ears as she remembered more.

_Before the sun sets on the third day, you have to get him to kiss you. Not just any kiss - the kiss of true love._

Lavellan wrenched her watering eyes to the demon version of herself. “Cullen?” she winced in disbelief. 

Of course. No magic. She had lusted after Cullen upon her first meeting with him, but had never considered it a real possibility. Why should a former templar ever fall for an apostate mage? 

But this isn’t what she had wanted.

“I didn’t ask for this!” Lavellan pleaded, writhing in pain against the rough floor of her quarters.

“Oh, but you did,” mocked the demon. “You were so eager to give up your magic for the chance to be with the Commander. That told me a lot about you, Herald. And I will know you more.”

Lavellan snarled in fury. “Why can’t anyone recognize me? What have you done to me?” she demanded, heaving her body to an upright position.

“Without magic, without the mark, you’re, well…” the demon raised an amused eyebrow. “No one.”

With a mocking laugh ringing in the air, Envy vanished, leaving Lavellan sobbing over the conditions of the worst deal she had ever made.

_If he kisses you before the sun sets on the third day, you can be you again. If he doesn’t--_ _I get to be you. Forever._


	2. Chapter 2

If remembering her terrible decision hadn't been humiliating enough, the guards kicking her out of her own quarters was the icing on the cake. No one could recognize her. She was powerless. She was alone. She was no one.

Lavellan found herself hunched over a mug of the strongest dwarven ale the tavern offered with her head heavy in her hands; the absent magic echoing an aching emptiness deep within her. Every impossible solution tumbled through her consciousness as furious tears stained her face, hopeless.

To add to her mortification, the knife-eared apostate spotted her tears as he passed the open tavern door. He made an abrupt change of course toward her. Hastily wiping her face on her sleeve, she adjusted her composure as he approached. She had managed to remain essentially invisible from everyone else, so why, out of all people, was _he_ the one to notice her? He, the one who mocked her people without hesitation. The one whose cold and distant attitude insulted and irritated. Why did it have to be _him_? 

Could he have possibly recognized her?

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, brushing him away with a dismissive hand before he had even asked.

“There’s something familiar about you.” Solas stated with unfeeling pragmatism.

Lavellan hadn’t wanted him to address her tears, but the fact that he _didn’t_ somehow infuriated her even more. Using what little energy she had left to staunch the tears, she glared daggers at him, daring him to keep talking.

“Who are you?” he asked softly, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Her energy spent, Lavellan burst, sobbing openly and passionately. She hated it, but she should have known that if she could go to anyone, it should be Solas. The Fade, spirits, and demons were his area of expertise.

The words poured out as freely as her tears before Solas held up a halting hand. “We should discuss this elsewhere.” he whispered, surveying the tavern’s patrons and guiding her roughly by the elbow.

Once in the privacy of Solas’ cabin, Lavellan wrenched her arm free from his grasp in defiance. She expected him to address the confession she had just made, but he only stared at her in quiet curiosity, studying the face he didn’t recognize.

“It was an envy demon," she offered after a long pause. “It said I could have my life back in three days…”

“If-?” 

Creators, she couldn’t bear the humiliation. Of course he knew there would be a condition. Pacing, Lavellan ran her palms over her face, feeling Solas’ questioning eyes burning in expectation.

With her face still covered, she sighed, the words tumbling out of her mouth in one breath. “If I can get a kiss of true love.” She punctuated its absurdity with one embarrassed, mirthless laugh. “From the commander, I suppose.” Eager to change the subject, she blurted, “You believe me?”

Solas grasped his hands behind his back, lost in thought. After what felt like an eternity, he finally turned, his intense eyes connecting with hers.

“We were told that the _‘Herald’_ ...you, were staying at Therinfal Redoubt for three days as Lord Seeker Lucius’ guest of honor,” his mocking use of her unwanted title didn’t escape her notice. “We thought it suspicious but we had no real option if we wanted to secure an alliance with the templars.”

His eyes continued to push deeper into hers, seeming to study her very spirit. If she had had any magic left, she was sure he would have been able to pierce it with his gaze. Suddenly, the trance was broken as he nodded his head.

“And you have no magic.” It wasn’t a question.

As a mage, she had had little training in any other form of defense. She hadn’t even touched a bow since her magic had emerged at age twelve. Though the tears had finally subsided, a wave of panic returned with the reminder of her powerlessness. The emptiness weighed heavily; her chest heaving way too fast. 

“Focus, da’len,” Solas prompted, laying an unexpectedly gentle hand on her shoulder. “Look at me.”

Her heart pounding with anxiety, she watched the rise and fall of his broad chest, struggling to regulate her own breathing to his,

Through ragged breaths she asked, “Is there anything we can do? Can we fight Envy? Talk to it?”

“No.” Solas said, simply. “The less you talk to Envy, the better. The less it will have to know about you. If you manage to kill it, it dies, leaving the curse permanent; your face forever forgotten.”

Lavellan took a deep breath, lowering her eyes in defeat.

“You will have to control your emotions, da’len. This is what it wants. What it feeds off of.” 

He tipped her chin upward to meet her eyes. 

“We cannot tell the rest of the Inquisition. Their reactions would only give it more fuel. We must keep this a secret and play its game. Right now, its goal will be to gauge your reactions, emotions, everything about what makes you, you. Focus your attention on the task at hand. Get to know Cullen.” 

His hands dropped to his sides as he straightened his back. 

“But for now, you must rest,” he finished, gesturing toward his bed. “You may use my quarters until we figure out another arrangement.”

And with that, he took his leave, leaving Lavellan speechless. It appeared there was a warmer side to Solas, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

"Da'len," he whispered with a gentle nudge on her shoulder a few hours later. "I have organized a lunch in the tavern for the new recruits and the commander. It may be a valuable opportunity for you to introduce yourself."

"But I'm _not_ myself," Lavellan grumbled, rolling over and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

To her surprise, Solas chuckled as he pushed a pile of fabric toward her. "I took the liberty of retrieving some of your clothes from your quarters."

She thanked him as he left her to change in privacy. The combination of a fresh change of clothes, a few hours’ rest-no matter how uneasy, and most importantly, having someone to confide in helped Lavellan feel infinitely better. She actually had some hope that she might be able to get her life back.

As she stepped into the icy chill of the Frostback Mountains, she spun around, mockingly presenting herself to him. “How do I look?”

Solas looked over her fresh figure with an unreadable expression that sobered Lavellan’s smile. "I don't know how I didn't recognize you before, but I can see you now--underneath the fog." 

“Do you think Cullen will?” she asked, hopeful. “Do you think he will even recognize me if the curse is lifted?”

“Let him fall in love with your spirit, da’len, and he will remember. Be yourself. Good luck,” he added, nodding his head in the direction of the tavern.

\---

When Solas approached her in the tavern that night after the rest of the soldiers had left, Lavellan’s spirits had dropped again.

“I feel pathetic,” she admitted, not bothering to look up at him as he seated himself across from her. “I gave up my life, my responsibilities, my _self_ , all for the slim chance at romance. It’s ridiculous,” she scoffed. “He barely paid any attention to me. How am I supposed to make him notice me? I’m empty without my magic.” 

_You’re no one._ The words of Envy echoed in her mind.

Somehow, he seemed to hear her thoughts; his kindness uncharacteristic of the Solas she had thought she had known. “You’re still _you_ , da’len, merely harder to see. You’re not your magic. You’re not the mark.”

The whole of this shemlen Inquisition had placed so much emphasis on her unique powers--Lavellan hadn’t realized how much she had needed to hear that. With her lashes lowered, a weary smile played on her lips.

“What can we do if I don’t--” Her eyes raised to meet his surprisingly warm gaze, interrupting her thought. 

Disregarding her brief pause, he responded with confidence, “If you don’t get the kiss, we will deal with Envy our way.”

Over his shoulder, Lavellan saw the Seeker Cassandra stride in through the tavern door, hand at the hilt on her waist, beelining for Solas.

“There you are, Solas,” she breathed, ignoring Lavellan with maddening indifference. “Leliana just received a raven from the Herald.”

Solas exchanged an almost imperceptible glance with Lavellan as he rose to speak to the Seeker. “Oh?”

Lavellan’s heart thundered in anticipation as the Seeker announced, “She has secured an alliance with the templars, and they will be arriving in Haven in two-days’ time. They are expecting a welcoming celebration."

“Fenedhis.” Lavellan cursed after the Seeker left the tavern. “Envy has something planned.”


	4. Chapter 4

The night was filled with nightmares of her hands tied behind her back, hourglasses, and setting suns.

Lavellan woke before dawn in Solas’ bed as he slept on his bedroll on the floor. She had never felt so comfortable in the superfluous fluff of a shemlen-style bed as she looked down to watch the serene rise and fall of Solas’ chest. Hugging his pillow to her face, the subtle scent pleasantly reminded her of the only confidante she had. How could she have misjudged him so poorly? 

Not wanting to disturb his journeys through the Fade, she tip-toed quietly out of the cabin into the glow of morning. 

The alluring comfort of Solas’ cabin disappeared as she shut the door behind her, and the familiar wave of distress returned. She had wasted the whole first day fumbling, whining, and finally accepting the terms of the curse. She had a lot of catching up to do today.

She made her way to the armory to grab a bow and was out in the practice field before the sun had fully risen over Haven. Without magic, she would need some form of defense for this upcoming celebration and whatever Envy had planned.

And, with any luck, she thought, Cullen may be willing to spend some one-on-one training time with her. 

The bow felt so clumsy in her magicless, inexperienced fingers. As she fired arrows in the general direction of the practice dummies, she had to exercise more and more control to subdue her frustration. Beginning to retrieve arrows that hadn’t met their mark, Lavellan heard soft footsteps coming down the front steps of the makeshift keep. She spun around to find the Commander flanked by two of Leliana’s spies, no doubt giving him the morning report.

This was her chance. She flagged him down awkwardly as the spies dispersed, and he approached, picking up the remaining mis-shot arrows along the way.

“It’s Seranna, isn’t it?” he asked, with a sideways smile, waving the handful of arrows at her in light chastisement. 

So he _had_ noticed her, after all. Or, at least, remembered the fake name that she had provided to him at their lunch the day before. His smile, that smile that haunted her thoughts, made her head spin when directed at her. 

Over Cullen’s shoulder, she saw that Solas had arrived and was observing their interaction from the front steps with hands clasped behind his back.

She opened her mouth, struggling to find a clever response before Cullen interrupted her.

“It looks like you might need to pay a visit to the Archery Master. I happen to know that he is free this morning. I suggest you go to him immediately before his schedule fills.” He handed her the arrows and turned without another word.

“Creators,” she cursed under her breath, humiliated. How could the lack of magic - the very thing she had assumed would turn Cullen away from her - be the very thing she could have used to gain his attention? She felt so incredibly awkward and empty without it. 

Solas walked down the steps toward her with an amused smirk twisting at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t laugh,” Lavellan glowered. “How am I going to make this work?”

Brushing her desperation away with calm indifference, he held an amulet out for her. “I am not particularly skilled at archery, but I do have magic that may assist you for the length of time needed.”

He closed the distance between them as she lowered her head for him to placed the delicate chain over her head. His fingers lightly grazed the tips of her ears, sending a shiver down her back. Instantly, she felt his magic from the amulet course through her, helping fill the void of her own missing mana. The bow hummed gently in her hand, and it suddenly felt like it actually belonged there.

“It’s not a rune enchantment, but - “

“Why are you helping me, Solas?” Lavellan interrupted. “I never had the impression that you were particularly fond of me. You made that much perfectly clear with your opinion of the Dalish.”

“I - “ he hesitated, his eyes flickering over the features of the face he could barely recognize. She watched his gaze shift from her wide eyes, over her nose, to tracing the vallaslin along her cheekbones. 

As his eyes dipped down to her questioning mouth, he quickly sobered. “All of Thedas is counting on you and your powers to close the breach.”

Lavellan stepped back with warmth rising in her face, unsure why she suddenly felt embarrassed. 

With the impressive power of Solas’ amulet, using the bow was infinitely easier. She may not have to visit the Archery Master, after all. Though she was still nowhere near as skilled as the Inquisition’s archers, she hit her mark more often than not. The two practiced for the remainder of the morning, Solas offering her what little advice he could provide, and Lavellan found herself enjoying the practice much more than she had expected. Eventually, after making great strides against stationary targets, Solas suggested practicing shooting moving targets by sending wisps of energy from his staff. 

She laughed for the first time in days as she shot an arrow through a wisp that looked suspiciously like Vivienne. It evaporated as soon as the arrow pierced it, which landed at the feet of an approaching Cullen. He bent to pick up the arrow with that same sideways grin on his handsome face.

Lavellan felt her knees go weak and barely heard him say, “We could use that kind of training with all of our archers, Solas.” Turning to Lavellan he added, “You look a little more comfortable with the bow this afternoon.”

Lavellan flashed him the most charming smile she could muster as Solas nodded a knowing goodbye before taking his leave.

“I am, Commander” she confirmed as she sauntered toward him. The magic from Solas’ amulet thrummed, sending a wave of confidence over her. “I was just a bit rusty this morning. But, I was hoping,” she continued suggestively. “That you might be able to help me with my archery stance?” 

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck timidly as she moved closer to him. 

“Solas and the Archery Master can only teach me so much,” she purred as she closed the distance between them. “But nothing can compare to training from the Commander of the Inquisition.”

The amulet coursed mana into the void where hers should be as she trailed a lazy finger down the exposed triangle of his breastplate. She lifted her lashes to meet his gaze, and oh, Creators, he was handsome. And large. So much larger than her. She could only imagine what he could do with her in private…

Cullen took an awkward step back with an embarrassed laugh. But to Lavellan’s surprise, he agreed.

Together they spent a good majority of the day working on training exercises and sharing stories. The more time Lavellan spent with him, the easier she found her flirtations to come. Yesterday, her pathetic attempts had felt forced, but today they came much more naturally. And, to her delight, Cullen was curiously responsive, though adorably flustered by her advances. Many other soldiers, messengers, and advisors approached him throughout the day for help in planning for the upcoming celebration, yet he continually found excuses to remain by her side to continue spending time with her. 

As the sun set on the second day, Cullen walked her to the soldiers’ tent, where he believed her to live. 

“You may have heard that there’s a celebration tomorrow for the arrival of the templars. I know it may be… improper--” he stuttered with a shy smile. “but… I normally don’t… Well--I was wondering if you might save a dance for me?”

Lavellan flushed as she vaguely wondered if Solas’ magical amulet had anything to do with her new allure and confidence. With his magic, she felt so much more like herself than she had without it; the emptiness filled.

Remembering Solas and the surprising support he had offered her, she suddenly felt the urge to find him and update him on her progress with Cullen. 

“Of course, Commander,” she smiled, hoping Solas would have knowledge about shemlen dances.

He kissed her hand in goodbye and she waited for him to disappear before heading back to Solas’ quarters. When she opened the door, he was already asleep on his bedroll on the floor, having left the bed available to her again. 

In silence, she loosened her hair with a smile and flopped onto his bed. Exhausted and sore from a day of hard training, the welcoming comfort of his bed was more than she could ask for. For the first time in two days, she felt happy and at ease, falling asleep with her hand clasping the amulet Solas had given her.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning was a whirlwind as the whole of the Inquisition prepared for the celebration later in the day. Though she had had a restful sleep, the reality of the pressures the third day held were almost too much for Lavellan to bear. While things were progressing smoothly with Cullen, knowing the templars would be arriving at the invitation of a demon who wanted to be her was alarming. And she still had no powers.

Solas had been in and out of the cabin all morning. As a part of the Inquisition’s Inner Circle, he was needed for preparation and, at his urging, strategic talks with the Seeker and advisors. He emphasized to them the suspiciousness of the celebration’s timing, and advised them all to be on guard.

When he finally had a moment to spare, Lavellan approached him about her growing concerns, wringing her hands. Being forced to hear of the Inquisition’s defensive plans from a secondary source, no matter how reliable, was almost as unempowering as the loss of her magic. And then there was the silly issue of the dance.

“We know Envy is up to something. You must remember not to react or show any emotion that it will be able to use against you. Your biggest task is to break the curse before anything can happen, no matter how distracted you might be. And remember to wear the amulet.”

“Do you know anything of shemlen dancing?” she asked in embarrassment. “Cullen asked me…”

“Of course. I have learned many aspects of human culture in my journeys in the Fade.”

He bowed his head and offered her his hand in an unfamiliar gesture. She reached out tentatively before he pulled her in close against his body. One hand snaked around her waist as the other held hers in a firm, commanding grip. Unsure where to place her free hand, she laid it gently against the ribbed fabric that stretched across his broad chest, and brushed it up over the ridge of his shoulder to the base of his neck.

He nodded in approval as he began stepping in an unheard rhythm, pulling and guiding her along with him. They stumbled awkwardly around his cabin; Lavellan making every effort to keep a straight face and keep her booted feet from crushing his bare toes.

“This… is confusing,” she muttered, staring down at her feet, trying to memorize the steps.

“Relax,” he responded simply, continuing to steer her around the room. “I will lead you.”

She took a deep breath and felt the subtle pressure he placed on her lower back, allowing her body to move freely to his guidance.

“Good,” he affirmed with a smile as he felt her tension release.

They continued spinning until Lavellan’s feet were no longer fumbling over themselves. She was beginning to sense not only the rhythm of his movements, but the enticing warmth of his body and the soft breath that tickled the bare skin of her neck. Suddenly overtly aware of their proximity, she pulled her eyes away from their feet, and brought them up to meet his gaze.

“In human culture, a dance like this can be for anything ranging from politics to romance,” he rasped needlessly; his heavy-lidded eyes smoldering.

She traced her gaze across his face -- a conflicted face she hadn’t ever truly seen before. He was more handsome than she remembered. 

“Then,” she responded, entranced as her eyes trailed to his full lips, “I suppose after the dance would be a good time for the kiss…”

She didn’t remember when they had stopped dancing, but they were suddenly standing still, bodies swaying closer together. Her body pressed against his, their heavy breaths mingling for an eternity in the narrowing gap between them. 

As suddenly as the trance began, Solas dropped his hands from her body, taking a cold step back.

“Yes,” he replied after a long delay. “The Commander would enjoy that. Please excuse me.” Lavellan released the breath she had been holding as Solas abruptly left his cabin. 

“Dread Wolf, take me,” she murmured in confusion, massaging the lines of vallaslin that adorned her forehead.


	6. Chapter 6

She watched as Envy, in her stolen body, stood before the Inquisition, playing the role of gracious host to the templars. If anyone recognized that something was off, no one let it be known. They didn’t recognize her. They all thought this _demon_ was her.

The threat of Envy’s unknown plan made it difficult for Lavellan to focus on breaking the curse. She rubbed the amulet that hung around her neck in a nervous gesture as she watched the Inner Circle mingle at the head table with their new allies. She hadn’t spoken with Solas since the awkward moment in his quarters, but saw that he carried his staff with him at all times, vigilantly prepared to cast a barrier over them if necessary.

She was beyond grateful for all of his help throughout this ridiculous situation she had gotten everyone into, and didn’t know how she was going to thank him. She owed him so much. 

“Seranna,” a voice broke her reverie, reminding her of the false identity she had acquired in order to break this curse. Her first priority. She dropped the amulet from her fingertips, and turned to find Cullen, handsome as ever, clad in his usual fur coat, smiling admiringly at her. That smile.

“Commander,” she addressed him, returning the engaging grin. “I believe I promised you a dance this evening.”

As if on cue, the music began as Cullen held out a gentlemanly hand to her, mirroring the motion Solas had made earlier in his quarters. Though not as graceful or experienced as Solas’ dance, Cullen led with similar command. He guided her across the dance floor in what should have been a perfect romantic moment, but Lavellan was having difficulty concentrating. She couldn’t stop her eyes from shifting between the head table where the templars sat with a demon; and Solas, who was now in a dance with Scout Harding. 

“I don’t usually do this,” Cullen was saying. “Dance, I mean…”

She barely heard him as her eyes fell on Solas’ fingers pressing on Harding’s lower back, remembering the way they felt against hers. She closed her eyes and shook herself. 

_Relax._ She heard Solas’ reminder echo in her mind. _Your biggest task is to break the curse before anything happens._

“Are you alright?” Cullen asked in concern.

“Yes, it’s nothing,” she smiled, turning her charm back on. “I just - I am more accustomed to Dalish-style dancing.”

She resolved to keep her eyes on Cullen as he spun her across the dance floor. He was a charming man, handsome and powerful; everything she had thought she wanted in a man. She had given up her magic for him, a templar, who she imagined would despise everything about her nature. But she hadn’t known for sure.

He gazed down at her admiringly with his signature sideways smile. The smile that had stopped her in her tracks for so many days. Would he still look at her that way if he knew who she really was?

There was only one way to find out.

She placed a soft hand against his cheek, her eyes dipping to trace the scar that lined his lips before flicking them back up to meet his gaze for permission. 

As he lowered his head down to hers, she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the strange way Solas’ name crept into her mind as his lips brushed timidly over hers.


	7. Chapter 7

As she pulled away from Cullen, her eyebrows knit together in furious betrayal and she snapped her head around to find Envy. Her magic had not returned. She could still feel its empty void.

The skies grew dark, and a sudden gust of wind whipped Lavellan’s hair from the neat coif she had styled for the celebration. All around her, she heard her own laugh, dark and ominous, howling in the air. 

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen gasped in confusion as she wrenched herself from him and nocked an arrow in her bow. 

The world melted around her as she marched in a rage up to Envy, who was sitting in a mockery of her body, alone at the high table.

“OUR DEAL?” Lavellan snarled over the blasting wind, aiming an arrow directly at the perverted version her own forehead.

Envy chuckled. “Oh, I am learning so much about you!” Its hands clapped together in glee. “Our deal was a kiss of true love. Not just any kiss.”

Suddenly, Envy’s version of her body disappeared and she found herself face to face with Solas, his eyes flashing green. She instinctively lowered the bow seeing his face before hers. “Will this form help me _know_ you, Herald?” it asked, in his amused voice. 

Solas. 

She had known, deep down, that it had always been Solas.

She looked around frantically. All of Haven was frozen in time, no one moving except for she and the demon. She spotted him, the real Solas, frozen in a dance with Harding as the sun was setting low in the sky behind him.

“Time is ticking, Herald…”

And suddenly, all of Haven was in movement again, Envy back to posing as herself, feet kicked casually up on the table with a mischievous smile, thoroughly entertained by the situation.

Solas caught her eye, observing the concern on her face, and excused himself from his dance partner. It had been one thing for him to help her charm Cullen, but this was another task altogether. As he closed the distance between them, she still wasn’t sure what to do.

“What happened, da’len?” he asked, his concerned eyes studying her apprehensive face.

“Solas, I kissed Cullen. Nothing happened.” She looked down, breathless and embarrassed. “Solas, I--” 

Before she could finish her thought, the pretender Herald called out over the crowd..

“Templars! This elf is an apostate and threat to the Inquisition!” she saw herself call as she pointed at Solas. “Apprehend him for the Rite of Tranquility!”

“No!” Lavellan cried as she struggled to fight off the templars that surrounded them, seizing Solas by the shoulders. He had only enough time to cast one spell before they confiscated his staff, using it to cast a barrier over her, protecting her from a templars’ hilt to the side of the head.

She rolled out of the way, retrieving her bow and quiver, mind racing. “Stop this, now!” she commanded in the hopes that her position might finally be recognized. Her attempt proved futile, and she managed to take out two of the templars holding Solas’ arm with the help of his amulet.

With one arm free, he manifested his power, sending a shockwave through the templars, knocking them back. He grabbed for Lavellan’s hand, pulling her with him as they ran to escape the chaos that had broken out over the celebration.

With more templars hot on their trail, Lavellan yelled, “We have to break the curse! They’ll listen to me once they recognize --”

They came to an abrupt halt as Cullen stepped in front of them, cutting off their escape. “I’m sorry, Seranna, Solas,” he explained sadly. “Please, just surrender. We’re under orders by the Herald.”

“Cullen, it’s _me!_ ” Lavellan tried in desperation. “You don’t need to do this!”

Solas raised his staff in defense, but Cullen was too fast. He opened his palm, purging the area of magic, violently knocking Solas clear across the field. Lavellan saw the sorrowful regret painted on Cullen’s face before she turned to run to Solas.

Templars were slowly circling the fallen elf, swords outstretched, as Lavellan pushed her way past them, falling to her knees at his side. Tears began to stream down her cheeks as thoughts of the worst nature ran through her mind. She saw his body, so fragile without magic, splayed face-down in the center of the celebration, her heart wrenched in guilt that she was responsible for it all.

At last, he grunted, rolling onto his back, and Lavellan threw her body over his in a rush of relief. The templars stiffened in response, waiting for a command from the false Herald. In desperation, she looked up to the sky, a sliver of sun still peeking out over the horizon.

She still had time.

Solas groaned in pain at the weight of Lavellan’s body on his battered frame, pushing her weakly away from him. She released him in apology as he proudly struggled to a sitting position. She sat back, looking deep into his weary eyes, the eyes she only now realized she loved.

“Solas, it was you,” she smiled through her tears. “Not Cullen. You.” 

Without a care about their audience, she wrapped her hands behind his neck, crushing her lips against his in desperate need. The need, not only to break the curse, but the need to be as close to him as possible. She wasn’t sure if he winced in pain or surprise, but after a pause, he pulled his arms up to her back and shoulders, tightening them around her possessively. She parted her lips, tender and insistent, as his fingers snaked slowly through her hair, down to her jaw, and cupped her face closer to his. 

Her heart swelled with the return of her magic. 

\-----

Suddenly, the world screamed and swirled around her, Solas disappearing from her arms, the ground disappearing from beneath her knees. She screamed in pain and terror, the blackness threatening to crush her, pressing in from all sides. Just when she thought she wouldn’t be able to take it anymore, the void stopped spinning and she opened her eyes.

She staggered backward, hearing the sounds of battle and seeing the familiar walls of Therinfal Redoubt surrounding her. Varric, Cassandra, and Solas were looking at her, concern haunting their faces.

“Herald?” Cassandra asked “Are you alright? Lord Seeker Lucius should be just up ahead.”

Lavellan looked down, lost in thought. The templar alliance hadn’t yet been secured, which meant… She looked to Solas, who glanced away with the cold indifference she had misunderstood so thoroughly before. This Solas hadn’t been tangled in her arms only moments before. 

“I think I’m fine,” she answered, struggling to accept that the breaking of the curse had somehow put her back to a point before it had started. Now, however, she had a completely different opinion of the elf standing next to her. She had known him, his character, his generosity, his lips… She wouldn’t object to getting to know them again.

But for now, an Envy demon needed to be defeated, once and for all.


End file.
